


Coffee

by geekmama



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Season/Series 04, Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-22 23:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18143762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekmama/pseuds/geekmama
Summary: ...He winced, assaulted by the vivid memory, an episode which in no way redounded to his credit (even the research utilizing the riding crop had ultimately proven inconclusive)....





	Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Short, unbetaed, and un-Britpicked, and sadly this is probably too little/too late, but at least I wrote _something_! Massive kudos to everyone who worked to make Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2019 a success -- so many stories posted this week, I hardly know where to begin reading.
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“So, bad day, was it?”

Sherlock, who’d just slammed into his newly renovated flat, whirled and gaped at Molly, who was occupying her yellow chair– and at his behest, he now recalled. The experiment requiring her input was still strewn over most of the kitchen table, exactly where it had been when he’d texted her a few hours ago, just before Mycroft’s summons.

Sherlock’s brotherly wrath (which _would_ be addressed later) was driven away by those words, evoking as they did the vision of a younger Molly, eager, innocent, naively thinking he was something wonderful…

He winced, assaulted by the vivid memory, an episode which in no way redounded to his credit (even the research utilizing the riding crop had ultimately proven inconclusive). And then he felt a flush rising, for Molly’s smile was shifting from teasing to something close to rueful.

She started to speak, rather gently. “Sherlock—“

But he cut her off, blurting, “Coffee. Would you like to have some?”

Her brows rose, and her smile reasserted itself. “Black, two sugars?” she asked, playfully.

He replied, as casually as he could manage, “I thought you always took one sugar, and cream.”

She chuckled, “Very observant!” and rose from the chair, saying, “I _think_ I can find the coffee maker somewhere in the depths of your kitchen, though how you’ve managed to recreate the chaos so qui--”

But he’d crossed to her in two purposeful strides, effectively silencing her, and he took her hands, holding them, small and cool, in his own. The memory of those hands, their skill and comfort as she’d nursed his wretched self through that last bout of withdrawal, was now superseded by the present moment. The hands were trembling a little, and the expression on her face completed the tale. He said, “I meant we should go out for coffee. If you’re willing, of course.”

She replied, slowly, “You know I’ve always been willing.” And then, realizing what she’d said, she gave a nervous laugh and tried to pull her hands away. In typical Molly fashion, she made bad worse by adding in would-be jest, “I suppose you’re going to give me another peck on the cheek, too.”

“No. Not at all,” he said, and, abandoning failed precepts, he dared to pull her close against him. With the back of his fingers he stroked the silken hair at her temple; then he nudged her chin up, bent, and kissed her. Properly.

It was an astonishing sensation… _delicious_ , in every possible way _…_ though she was stiff with shock, at first. But shock soon gave way to acquiescence, and then to a sort of shivering intensity indicative of both joy and fear. For Sherlock, the experience was staggering, delightfully so, and it flashed through his mind how foolish he’d been…

But regret was useless. There was nothing to be done about the past, and perhaps it had all happened for a reason. But the future… a future replete with such moments as this…

He pulled away, just a little, and could still feel her breath against his lips as he said, “Is this better?”

“ _Sherlock!_ ” she whispered, and, coming to her senses, she began to squirm.

But he tightened his embrace, stilling her. “Coffee. There are things we need to discuss, Molly Hooper, and I don’t think we should do it here.” He kissed her lips once more, very tenderly, and then carefully released her. “Will you come with me?”

She stared up at him in a sort of freshly ravished wonder for a long moment, then pulled herself together. She straightened to her full height (his lips twitched against a smile), took a deep breath, and held out her hand. “Yes, I will,” she replied, her voice steady.

He took the hand, so small and cool in his own…

…and so very dear.

~.~


End file.
